


they say nothing’s free (if you want to, you can run with me)

by gilligankane



Series: Vanity Fest, 2018 [3]
Category: Emmerdale
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 01:17:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16253681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: Vanessa is panting as she drops into the first seat just inside the train doors at the end of the car. Her heart is racing and the back of her neck is sweating and her chest is heaving and her hands are shaking and the blood won’t-The blood, she thinks.





	they say nothing’s free (if you want to, you can run with me)

**Author's Note:**

> For Day 3 of Vanity Fest - _AU_

Vanessa is panting as she drops into the first seat just inside the train doors at the end of the car. Her heart is racing and the back of her neck is sweating and her chest is heaving and her hands are shaking and the blood won’t-

_ The blood _ , she thinks.

Her eyes widen and she quickly turns away from the aisle, sliding into the seat closer to the window, her hands hidden between the cooler interior of the the train wall and the scratchy polyester of her coat. She tries to wipe her hands on the coat, praying that the black fabric will hide the dark red blood flaking around her knuckles. A shadow passes and Vanessa forces a quick smile, tipping her head at the conductor as he walks by. He tips his hat back at her but doesn’t stop. Something like relief ripples through her and she goes back to her hands, rubbing her palms against the polyester until they’re raw.

“There you are, babe!”

Vanessa winces at the high-pitched voice and jumps as a body slides in next to her. A cold hand fists the collar of her coat and a woman leans in, her breath hot as she whispers into Vanessa’s ear. 

“There’s a tenner in it for you if you  _ just go with it _ .”

Vanessa swallows hard, eyes sucked into the woman’s gaze, and finds herself nodding slowly, matching the woman nodding back at her. She looks past the woman, up at the conductor standing in the aisle, and gives him a wide smile. Her hands are shaking, gripping her jacket too tightly to be natural, but her voice is steady when she addresses him.

“Sorry about her,” she says kindly.

“Don’t apologize for me,” the woman snaps. Her hand loosens a bit around Vanessa’s collar, her long fingers sliding over the slightly sticky skin of Vanessa’s neck.

Vanessa ignores her, still smiling at the conductor. “She’s a bit pushy.”

The conductor stares at them for another moment before tipping his head sympathetically. “Women, eh?”

“Women,” Vanessa repeats, shaking her head. The woman’s hand moves further along the back of her neck, up into her hair.

“Me own wife is a bit of a hassle,” he admits. He reaches up, tapping the edge of his hat as he nods at her. “Good luck with this one.”

“ _ This one _ is sitting right here,” the woman says loudly. 

The conductor ignores her and continues down the aisle, head swinging back and forth as he checks on the passengers settling into their seats. 

“You’re sweating,” the woman says, pulling her hand out of Vanessa’s hair and wiping it on the leg of her trousers.

Vanessa scowls. “I  _ ran _ to catch this train and then I was nearly assaulted by a woman who’s all but sitting on me.”

The woman looks down between their bodies. She must suddenly realize how she’s sitting, one leg over Vanessa’s. She moves away, her back against the leather of her own seat. Her leg is still pressed to the out of Vanessa’s, but some of the weight is gone and Vanessa can breathe again.

“Had to sell it, didn’t I?”

Vanessa snorts. “Well, if you were going for  _ pushy wife _ , you certainly sold it well.”

The other woman stares at her before one side of her mouth curls up in a slow, predatory smile. It sends a shiver down Vanessa’s spine, tingling in her toes. “Had many a pushy wives in your day?”

Vanessa rolls her eyes and looks out the window at the station. The train is starting to shake as the engine roars back to life and it hums through Vanessa’s body. She looks back at the entrance to the station, her forehead pressed to the glass. Something like relief starts to flood through her chest and her shoulders drop from where they’ve been, tight up around her ears.

_ He’s not following me. He’s not coming after me. He’s _ -

There’s a commotion at the turnstyle and panic rises quickly in Vanessa’s throat. The woman’s body tenses next to her but Vanessa doesn’t notice, too focused on the sudden appearance of a man in a black jacket, pushing his way through the security officers. He’s shouting something and pointing at the train, but the guards are surrounding him, hands pushing him back towards the station building.

_ Did someone see me? Did he send someone after me? _

The train starts to pull away and the man gets through one security officer before another grabs a hold of him, pulling him back. Vanessa jumps a little, her shoulder catching the woman next to her in the chin. The woman hisses, her hand cupping her chin, and sits back, glaring at Vanessa.

“Abusive, huh?” The woman rubs at her chin, wincing a bit. “If I’d known you’re like that, babe, I’d have picked someone else to get married to.”

Vanessa shakes her head. She can’t focus on the woman’s words - not when her stomach is twisting itself into a knot and her ears are ringing. She groans and leans forward, her elbows digging into her knees as she buries her face in her hands.

“Are you going to be sick?” the woman asks. “Only, if you’re going to be sick, you’d better - Is that  _ blood _ ?”

Vanessa sits up quickly, staring at the drying flecks on her hands. Her eyes widen and she shoves her hands into her coat pockets. “N-no.”

The woman grabs her arm, pulling the hand closest to her out of Vanessa’s pocket. “Are you bleeding?” She grabs for Vanessa’s other hand, palm sliding across Vanessa’s middle, feeling around for a wound. “You were clutching your side. Are you-”

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Vanessa snaps. “I’m…” A sob bubbles up and out of her throat. “I’m-”

“Woah,” the woman says softly. “Don’t get hysterical.” She glances away, down the aisle to the conductor punching tickets at the end of the car. Her voice is still quiet when she drops a hand on the back of Vanessa’s shoulder, rubbing a small circle Vanessa can barely feel through the polyester.

“You’re causing a scene,” the woman says through clenched teeth. Vanessa looks up, catching the eye of a passenger as they pass by their seat.

“I’m sorry,” Vanessa manages through her gasps for air.

She can only see the blood on her hands; the blood pooling at his feet; the way his eyes went wide and he staggered back from her, crashing into his desk. She tries to blink the images away but they swim in front of her, making her dizzy.

“I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean to,” she stutters. “It just  _ happened _ .”

The woman’s eyes widen for a moment before they narrow into slits, a wrinkle stretching the length of her forehead. “Listen, you better tell me what you’re going on about.”

Vanessa shakes her head, tears in her eyes. They burn as they run down her cheeks and off the bottom of her chin. 

“Ladies,” the conductor says. “Tickets.”

Vanessa cries harder, unable to quiet the gasps for air as she tries to find the words to tell the conductor that she doesn’t actually  _ have _ a ticket. The woman’s hand stills against Vanessa’s back as the other dips into her own pocket, producing two tickets. She hands them to the conductor with a too-wide smile.

The conductor looks past Charity, his eyes softening. “Are you alright, love?”

“That time of the month, innit?” the woman answers. She takes the tickets back as soon as they’re punched, pushing them back into her pocket. Her neck stretches forward, her chin jutting up in a challenge. “So do one, yeah?”

The conductor hesitates, trying to catch Vanessa’s eye before sighing and walking off to the next car. When she doesn’t look up at him, he shakes his head and moves to the next set of seats. 

“Right, lady,” the woman spits. “Spill.”

Vanessa means to close her mouth tightly, but it opens just slightly and its enough for the words to flood out of her mouth into the space between them. “He was yelling and-”

“Who was?” the woman asks.

“Mr. Kirk. He was shouting about suspensions and misconduct and-and I worked so hard for this that I couldn’t,  _ he  _ couldn’t take it away from me.” She looks up wildly. “Oh, god. What’ve I done?”

“I don’t quite know,” the woman says slowly. “Since you haven’t actually said.”

Vanessa startles, suddenly realizing that she’s pressed into a train seat, one shoulder braced against the window as this woman leans into her side. Her hand is still on Vanessa’s back, the other tangled in Vanessa’s clasped hands, keeping them away from her face.  _ The blood _ , Vanessa thinks.  _ It’d do no good to get it on my face _ . 

“I stabbed him,” she says. Her eyes widen. “I’ve stabbed Paddy Kirk.”

The woman’s hand tenses in Vanessa’s. “Stabbed,” the woman says slowly.

“Oh,  _ god _ ,” Vanessa continues. “I’ve stabbed the head of the RCVS Council.” She looks at the woman next to her. “With a letter opener.”

The woman stares back at her for a long moment before snorting. “A letter opener.”

“I…” Vanessa trails off. “I don’t know what came over me.” She holds her hands up high, the woman’s hand sliding down to her wrist. “I just… saw red.”

The woman shakes her head. “How I feel about most men, yeah?”

“They were coming for me,” Vanessa says, her voice a hard whisper. “I saw a man, at the station. He was trying to get through the security guards and he was pointing at me through the window.” She closes her eyes, suddenly dizzy. “Oh, god. They’re going to come after me. And they’ve sent a hitman.”

The woman stares at her for a moment before her eyes spark knowingly. “Oh, no. That’ll be our Cain.”

“Cain,” Vanessa repeats.

“My…” the woman pauses. “Well, he’s coming after  _ me _ . Not you.”

Vanessa sits back a bit, the hand on her back sliding away. “Who  _ are _ you?”

“Charity.”

Vanessa shakes her head. “No, I don’t want your charity.”

“My  _ name _ is Charity,” the woman says, rolling her eyes.

Vanessa snorts. “Give over.”

The woman -  _ Charity _ \- scowls at her. “And what’s yours?”

“Vanessa,” Vanessa says slowly.

“Dead boring,” Charity mutters.

Vanessa ignores her, holding up her hands again and staring at the raw skin. She’s rubbed nearly most of the dried blood off on her coat - she’ll need to toss that in the tip, later -  and Charity’s clean, long fingers around her wrist are nearly translucent against the red of her palms. She stares at the faded scars on Charity’s hand long enough that Charity lets go of her, frowning at her.

“Who is Cain?” Vanessa finally asks.

Charity huffs, her long hair fluttering away from her face before settling back down against her cheek. She brushes at it, frustrated, but it goes nowhere. Vanessa reaches without thinking, her fingernails against Charity’s skin as she tucks the hair back around the curve of Charity’s ear.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, the back of her neck burning in embarrassment. “Who is he?”

“He’s… Cain,” Charity says. “Hard to say, really.”

Vanessa frowns softly. “But he’s after you?”

Charity looks up and down the aisle, clocking the conductor as he stands at the end of the car. There’s another few passengers, all either tapping away on computers or riding with their eyes closed and earbuds in. It must satisfy Charity; she leans in close to Vanessa, her breath hot against Vanessa’s cheek as she speaks. “He’s probably a bit sour I stole his share of the money, yeah?”

Vanessa pulls away a little, her eyes trailing down Charity’s face. They catch the small twitch at the corner of her mouth and linger there before she blinks, leaning back further. “Money?”

Charity grins now, steepling her fingers together in front of her. She glances around again before she lifts up the small bag at her feet. Vanessa hadn’t seen her drop there; hadn’t noticed much, in fact, as she tried so hard to clean her hands before someone noticed them. Charity settles it on her lap and pulls the zipper back a few inches, tugging on the handles so Vanessa can see into the bag. It’s stacks of cash in neatly wrapped piles, one on top of the other.

“What’re you-” Vanessa stops herself, wetting her bottom lip. “ _ Who _ are you?”

Charity holds out a hand. “Charity Dingle, extraordinaire.”

“Extraordinaire  _ what _ ?” Vanessa asks.

“Just that,” Charity dismisses. She zips the bag back up and drops it down at her feet. “Don’t think I forgot about that tenner. It’s yours soon as we get off this thing.”

Vanessa blinks, trying to clear the fog from her mind.  _ There’s a tenner in it for you if you just go with it, _ Charity had said. She nods dismissively, look out the window she’s pressed up against. The scenery is racing by in a blur and it occurs to Vanessa that she didn’t stop to check the schedule before she got on train; she simply picked the first one she found and got on. 

“Headed to Emmerdale,” Charity says, as if reading her mind. She leans across Vanessa and peers out the window. “Ever been?”

Vanessa shakes her head. “From Lancashire,” she mutters.

Charity snorts softly. “Course you are, babe.” She sits back, her shoulder against Vanessa’s. “I’ve got family in Emmerdale. Once I get there, Cain’ll be on a short leash, won’t he.”

“Will he?” Vanessa asks. She’s not sure why; she’s not much interested in whoever Cain is, but she likes the soft highs and lows of Charity’s voice.

There’s a commotion at the end of the car as the door opens. The conductor steps in front of the person coming through, a hand up to stop him. The man pushes past the conductor, eyes scanning the car erratically.

“Cain,” Vanessa breathes out.

Charity’s eyes flash in fear. She sits up a bit, catching sight of him arguing with the conductor and shrinks back down in her seat. “How did he-”

“I’m telling you,” Cain shouts. “She’s right back there.” He jabs a finger in Charity’s direction.

Charity is starting to shake against Vanessa’s side. Vanessa looks between them, at the growing concern on Charity’s face and the blazing anger on Cain’s. 

“Charity,” she says slowly, an idea forming in her head. She turns in her seat, wiping her hands on her trousers.

Cain is getting closer, shoving the conductor back in their direction. Charity is shrinking further and further back, her feet kicking at the black bag under seat until it’s nearly out of sight.

“Charity,” Vanessa starts. Charity doesn’t look at her. “ _ Charity _ ,” she hisses.

Cain is getting closer, still.

Vanessa dips, catching Charity’s eye. “You can have your tenner back if you go with it,” she breathes.

“You what?” Charity asks.

Vanessa curls her fingers into the collar of Charity’s coat, still stained red against the soft gray polyester. “Come here,” Vanessa murmurs, closing the distance between them.

Charity’s mouth is soft and warm and her lips press gently against Vanessa’s. Cain is still arguing with the conductor, still trying to get past him - Vanessa can hear them in the distance - but she doesn’t focus on that. Charity’s hand slides to the back of her neck, her fingers splaying out as they slip into Vanessa’s hand, tangling there. Charity tilts her head, pressing closer. Someone moans, soft and slow, but Vanessa isn’t sure who.

Someone clears their throat and Vanessa pulls away suddenly, catching sight of Charity still leaning in, eyes still closed. She looks past Charity to the aisle.

The conductor is panting, fisting Cain’s collar and holding him at arm’s length. “This man,” he manages. “Do you know him? Only, he says he’s your husband.”

Vanessa smooths down Charity’s upturned collar, brushing her thumb against Charity’s bottom lip. “No,” she says simply. “Do you, darling?” She smiles flatly. “Cheating on me, are you?”

Charity blinks, her face blank for a moment before it comes back to life. “With  _ that _ ?” She snorts. “Not a fella I’d be interested in knowing, would I? Face like a mardy bull.” Something blooms across her face - courage, maybe, Vanessa thinks - and she sits up a bit. Her hand is still wound in through the strands of Vanessa’s hair and they tighten just enough to send a thrill of  _ something _ down Vanessa’s spine. “Why trade this Ferrari in for a dented farm truck?”

Cain’s eyes flash. “You stupid, lying, who-” 

The conductor shakes him once. “Watch it, lad.” He looks back at Vanessa and Charity, tipping his hat. “Apologises, ladies.”

Cain is still glaring at Charity as the conductor leads him back towards the end of the car. He makes a line across his throat, a clear threat if Vanessa’s ever seen one. It makes her move a little more, stretching her shoulders as wide as she can across Charity, blocking her from Cain. They watch as the conductor moves him out of the car and the door slides shut with a bang behind them. 

Vanessa exhales loudly, sinking back against Charity. Charity’s arm goes around her waist, squeezing softly. The train rumbles beneath them and the adrenaline courses through her body. Charity is warm against her back, her hair soft against Vanessa’s face. Vanessa lets her eyes close for a moment, snapping back to attention when the train door opens again.

The conductor slips back into the car, catching Vanessa’s eye and nodding sharply at her.

Charity’s fingers twitch against the button of Vanessa’s jacket. “You kissed me,” Charity starts, breathing into her ear. Her mouth is stretching wide in a smile that makes Vanessa’s cheeks flush. “Didn’t think you had it in you, babe.”

There’s something like desire coursing through her body moves away from Charity, turning in her seat. She leans back into Charity’s space. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Well, you did stab someone,” Charity murmurs.

Vanessa’s mood sours quickly.

Charity only moves in closer, her fingers walking a slow ascent to the collar of Vanessa’s jacket. “So, you’re just full of surprises, eh?”

Vanessa swallows hard, feeling her bad mood fading as instantly as it came. She looks down at Charity’s mouth again, lingering. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Charity grins wider. “Wouldn’t I just.”

“Next stop, Emmerdale!” a voice shouts.

“Emmerdale,” Vanessa murmurs. “Never been. Anything worth seeing?”

“Oh, babe” Charity breathes, her hand at the back of Vanessa’s neck again. “I reckon there’s one thing worth seeing, at least.”


End file.
